This is a true story that happened to me in the autumn of 1990 while living as a single gal in a rustic hunting camp just down the road from where I now live in Love. It proved to be a valuable lesson in showing how God lovingly provides for our needs even before we ask.
One day in late fall I decided to cut the grass for the last time before winter set in. I usually wore an old pair of grass-stained sneakers for this purpose but that day I couldn’t seem to locate where I had taken them off. I didn’t have much luck finding them as I peered under the bed and in the closet so I went to the back porch in search of them. Halfway out the door the phone rang and I momentarily forgot my tennis shoe quest. As I hung up the telephone a strong urge came over me to just wear my hiking boots instead of the usual sneakers. I argued with myself that the boots were too heavy and clunky to mow in, but the thought persisted and I finally gave in to it and laced up my Carolinas.
Everything was going along fine until I decided to lower the push mower over a small bush in the front yard. I lowered the machine over the shrub and listened as it ground the leafless branches into mulch. I tried pulling the mower off the bush and found it had hung up on one of the larger branches that hadn’t been chewed up. It was stuck fast. Giving it a quick yank, the mower suddenly came loose and flew off towards me. Stepping backwards to get out of its way, I tripped over another bush directly in back of me and watched in horror as I realized the mower was coming over my right foot. The moment before impact I sucked my toes as far back in the boot as possible and closed my eyes. When the blade hit, my foot went completely numb and I figured that was all she wrote for my five little piggies. I had read somewhere that there is no pain when limbs are severed… just numbness.
Shaking, I hopped over to the front porch and sat down on the steps, afraid to look at my foot for fear all my toes were gone and I was bleeding to death. I finally got enough nerve to look down and was amazed to see the front of my beloved boot chewed to smithereens but no blood pouring out. Calming, I slowly unlaced it and carefully inspected my numb toes that were turning black and blue by the minute. “Wiggle, wiggle.” All of them still worked! Right there, I thanked God for his still small voice that told me to wear heavier shoes instead of the lightweight sneakers.
I began to lament over my favorite pair of boots, realizing I had no money to buy another pair for the upcoming winter. But then I thought of what could have easily happened if I had found my tennis shoes; an outcome that might have had a very different and dangerous ending. Right there was cause to think how carefully God watches over and protects us. But the story wasn’t over.
The next day, my daughter called and said something that made my mouth drop and left me speechless in its wake. Seems they got a new shipment of expensive, state-of-the-art hiking boots in the local outfitter store where she worked and one pair had a slight defect which rendered them unsaleable. The manufacturer didn’t want them back and told the outfitter to just dispose of them.
“Mom,” said Heather, “They are size 7… just your size. I can drop them by on my way home if you want them and can use another pair.”
That cool fall day I learned how God’s tender love and provision is always available to his children… even before we ask.
